


Sweet words from rotten mouths trick my broken soul (and there's nothing I can do about it)

by DearLittleRobin



Series: the differences don't make them less broken. (or less fixable) [2]
Category: The Umbrella Academy (TV)
Genre: A Bit of Fluff, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Angst, Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Child Abuse, Drug Use, Emotional Manipulation, Gen, Klaus Hargreeves Deserves Better, Reginald Hargreeves' A+ Parenting
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-04-15
Updated: 2019-04-15
Packaged: 2020-01-13 15:01:58
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,366
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18471361
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DearLittleRobin/pseuds/DearLittleRobin
Summary: Sometimes, all you can do is hope for the best.(Klaus learned it the hard way)





	Sweet words from rotten mouths trick my broken soul (and there's nothing I can do about it)

**Author's Note:**

> HELLO  
> This is part two of this series and i guess it can be read as a stand alone, but i highly recommend reading part one to really understand this universe and stuff.  
> This part is a bit shorter than the first one because otherwise I would take waaaaay too long to write it, i hope that's ok.  
> Hope you enjoy your reading!

It wasn’t all that surprising when, not long after superheroes became a thing, supervillains began to show up. Thus, crazy men in funny attires were not at all an uncommon sight for the Umbrella Academy.  In fact, it was actually becoming increasingly _more_  common to see those dudes around, and that really put the efficiency of their superhero team at stake (Not that Klaus gave a fuck. Reginald and his superheroes fantasies could fuck right off for all he cared) Anyway, Klaus found them to be quite ridiculous  (he  _was_  a kid in a mask wearing a stupid school uniform as a super suit though, so maybe he couldn’t really judge much), but, since no one was interested in whatever Klaus thought, The Bad GuysTM just kept showing up. Although, and Klaus had to admit it, if there was one thing those self-proclaimed supervillains were good at, it was at making really crazy plans to do really crazy things that honestly didn’t make sense.

The supervillain of the moment was trying to steal the Statue of Liberty’s head, for example. Yeah, _the head._ _Just_ the head. Maybe it was to make a statement, maybe it was to fuel some other crazy act or maybe he was just in the mood for stealing a big copper head. No one really knew with those guys. The motives weren’t all that important anyway since they had to stop him no matter the reason that brought him there in the first place.

Even with all the very weird circumstances, the mission was supposed to be simple enough: arrest the bad guy and don’t let him decapitate miss liberty in the process. The crazy man, however, turned out to have other plans regarding the difficulties of the fight. It appeared that mister I-Wan’t-To-Steal-A-Gigantic-Copper-Head was not only a crazy mad man, but also a crazy  _rich_ man, because like, the henchmen had probably charged  _at least_  minimum wage for their service and there were  _a lot_ of henchmen. Like, a lot a lot. Klaus was honestly impressed.

So yeah, what initially appeared to be one crazy dude and his fifty gunned man giving the impossible a go turned out to be one crazy rich dude and his thousand gunned man almost making the impossible possible. Truly an inspiring story, if not a major pain in the ass.

The situation got out of control so quickly Klaus thought he would actually be thrown into real combat for a moment. Of course, that was shot down by Luther almost immediately when their Number One screamed at him to be their crowd control (because being the lookout didn’t really make sense). One thing about panicked crowds in large open fields though, they don’t tend to stick around for long. Save for one or two people who had been a bit too focused on the fight to remember that oh,  _their life was in danger_ , Klaus didn’t have much difficulties with taking everyone away. Then the police arrived and put their yellow tapes everywhere, pretty much stealing Klaus’ job.

That left Klaus far away from the actual fight, watching worriedly as their siblings tried to stop the madman while trying to also not get shot in the process. It felt bad to just watch, but it wasn’t like he could do anything about it. What would he do? See the dead henchmen and tell them to suck it? As much fun as that would be, it wasn’t exactly useful for anything other than making Klaus an easy target.

(Which maybe would be useful if it successfully brought the gunned men’s attention to him other than his siblings, but Klaus didn’t want to think about that)

Letting out a sigh, Klaus rested his head on his hand, elbow pressed against his thigh. The police had the ‘handling the crowd’ job covered, his siblings had the ‘stop the threat’ one down and he was stuck in the middle, sitting close to one of the places he had successfully evacuated, eyes fixed on the fight ahead.

“Shouldn’t you be kicking ass right now?” Came an unfamiliar voice to his right, making Klaus turn his head sharply.

A boy stood there, probably his age if not a bit older, staring him down with curious eyes. Klaus inspected the boy’s appearance looking for some kind of wound that would explain his death. When he found nothing, he frowned.

“Are you alive?” He asked and the boy chuckled.

“For now.” He answered, sitting down next to Klaus and fidgeting with his jacket pocket. He pulled some stuff Klaus didn’t recognize out of it and placed them on his thigh. “I’m assuming you’re The Séance, then?”

“One and only” Klaus answered, not enthusiastically.

The boy spared him a look, eyeing him up and down, and turned to whatever it was that he was doing. Klaus honestly couldn’t tell what it was. He seemed to be messing up with some kind of powder and small…paper sheets? 

“You didn’t answer my question” The boy noted, rolling the weird powder with the weird paper sheet “Why are you here and not there?”

“Seeing the dead is not exactly useful against guns.” Klaus shrugged, eyeing the thing the boy had in his hands. “What’s that?”

The boy frowned, raising the hand he was holding the mysterious object with.

“The joint?” He asked and it was Klaus turn to frown.

“Joint?” He asked "Is it like a part of your knee or something?"

The boy blinked. He stared at Klaus for a bit, as if waiting for him to say something else. Klaus didn’t know what else to say so he just stared back and let his voice get more scrunched up in confusion. Then, after a few seconds of that, the boy laughed.

“Geez dude” He breathed out “Don’t you know what a joint is?”

“No.” Klaus answered, face scrunched up in confusion “Should I?”

“Well, it’s not exactly a must, but most people our age at least know what it is” The boy explained. “It’s understandable that you don’t, though. The superhero life doesn’t seem to be one that fits this kind of thing”

Klaus shrugged.

“What do you do with it?” He asked, curiously. “Eat it?”

The boy snorted.

“No” He said with a laugh “You smoke it.”

“What do you mean?”

“Here, let me show you”

Holding the joint with one hand, the boy let his other one slip back into his pocket to retrieve a lighter. Then, he lit up on side of the joint, waited a few seconds and brought the other side to his mouth. Klaus could hear him inhaling for a bit before he put the joint away and exhaled smoke.

“Wow” Klaus said. The boy smiled.

“You wanna try?” He offered.

Klaus glanced back at the fight. For the looks of it, and by that he meant the number of bullets flying through air and how many times he saw one of his siblings, no more than faceless silhouettes from where he stood, moved to tackle down, throw away or rip apart (That one was mostly on Ben’s case) another one of the endless henchmen, the whole thing was far from being over. Klaus turned back to the boy and nodded.

“Ok, so you hold it like this” The boy instructed, passing the joint to Klaus and directing his fingers. The touch felt hot against his skin. “Bring it to your mouth and just inhale.”

Klaus obeyed. As soon as he did, his mouth, throat and lungs were suddenly enveloped by a burning sensation so strong it was quick to send Klaus into a coughing spurt. He moved the hand holding the joint away from his mouth as he brought his other arm closer to pitifully cough into the crook of his elbow. The boy patted him gently on the shoulder.

“There, there” The boy repeated.

“It burns” Klaus wheezed out, eyes wet. “How do you do it?”

“You get used to it after a while” The boy answered with a shrug. “If you try again now, you’ll see that it will be a little better.”

Klaus, after finally stopping coughing, eyed the joint. He brought it to his mouth again, inhaled it just like he did before and, although it still burned, it truly wasn’t as bad. He barely coughed.

“There you go” The boy gave him a smile. “You wanna keep it?”

Feeling brave, Klaus nodded. The boy nodded back and took out more of the weird powder and paper sheets from his pocket. Soon enough, he too had a joint in his hand.

“You might start feeling kinda weird in a bit” The boy warned.

“What do you mean?” Klaus asked, inhaling again. Still burned, but it was getting better.

“Like, you’ll probably get a bit dizzy and sluggish. Probably hungry too.”

Klaus hummed then frowned.

“Why?” He asked.

 “That’s just what weed does to people, dude” The boy answered.

Klaus frowned.

“I thought this was a joint?”

The boy laughed, tapping Klaus on the shoulder affectionally. The action brought a smile to Klaus’ lips.

“You have a lot to learn, my friend” The boy told him, but left it at that.

The two of them kept quietly smoking, looking at the fight unraveling around the Statue. There was an explosion out of seemingly nowhere and one of the silhouettes that were his siblings jumped through it, landing on another group of henchmen. Klaus smiled. A sudden feeling of joy overtaking his mind

“It’s cool, isn’t it?” The boy said to him as he, too, watched the fight.

“Yeah” He said back. “It’s cool”

“I like to watch you guys doing that. The hero stuff” The boy told him.

“That’s why you are not behind the yellow tapes like the others?” Klaus asked. The boy chuckled and it was answer enough.

Klaus kept on watching and kept bringing the joint to his mouth. After a few minutes, he finally understood what the boy had meant with dizzy and sluggish. The world seemed to be much more vibrant, the air like waves of energy hugging his skin in a cold embrace. That faint feeling of joy from earlier seemed to be amplified, hugging him just like the cool breeze. Everything felt  _alive_ , which was so weird for someone who could see the dead.

“It feels  _good_ ” Klaus commented absentmindedly. The boy hummed in agreement.

“It’s supposed too” He said, taking a long drag. “I smoke when I’m stressed. It helps”

“What are you stressed about?” Klaus asked before he could really think about it.

The boy didn’t answer immediately, but Klaus waited.

“Problems at home” He finally said, accompanied by a shrug.

It was vague enough that Klaus, even in his altered state, could tell the boy didn’t want to get into it. Klaus wondered, however, what problems those might be. Maybe the boy was like him, maybe his father was also constantly disappointed in his performance and didn’t give the boy the hugs. Klaus assumed he didn’t have any siblings since there was no one else with them so the boy didn’t even have someone else to hug him when his father didn’t It was sad enough to almost make Klaus cry. Of course, there was also the possibility that Klaus was completely wrong in his assumptions and, before the ich to ask and risk making the situation uncomfortable took over, he changed the subject.

“You never said your name” He commented “I’m Klaus, by the way”

“Klaus, huh?” The boy said. He smiled. “Aren’t you afraid of telling your secret identity to some random stranger?”

“And what will you do? Go after my family?” Klaus teased, also smiling. “Somehow I get the feeling they could take you.”

“Oh, I wouldn’t be so sure about that” The boy joked. “I’ve been told I’ve got some sick karate moves”

It wasn’t that funny, he knew it wasn’t funny, but Klaus busted out laughing as soon as the words left the boy’s mouth. It felt good to just laugh and made him long for days in which he did it more often. It seemed like the Academy had gotten more tense as time passed. It was good to just laugh at stupid shit for a bit. 

As all good things in Klaus’ life though, it didn’t last much. Because, when he turned around, he spotted the familiar figure of his father walking over to where they sat. He didn’t have to see Reginald’s face to know he was furious.

“Shit!” He exclaimed, all that sudden joy vanishing so quickly it was almost as if it was never there. “Shit, shit” Klaus scrambled to get up, throwing the joint away from him and turning to the boy that now stared at him with wide and confused eyes. “You gotta go, buddy.Like, now”

“What?” The boy asked as he frowned. “Why?”

“Because my father is coming here and he’s  _mad._ ” Klaus glanced over his shoulder. “I don’t want him to get you so just run away from here, yeah? Just- just go.”

The boy got up and maybe Klaus imagined it, but he was pretty sure he saw some kind of somber understanding in the boy’s eyes as he nodded and turned to run away. It made Klaus wonder, again, if the problems the boy had at home weren’t that different from the ones he had.

“I never got his name” Klaus muttered to himself as he watched him go. It made him sad.

“Number Four!” Came the very familiar angry voice of his father and Klaus braced himself. The man was fuming, face scrunched up in a type of anger Klaus had never seen. It was scary, scarier than it had ever been before. “What is the meaning of this?!” His father’s hands grabbed his face and tilted his head up so he could really look inside Klaus’ eyes. “You are left alone for just a few moments and you manage to throw our family name into the dirt?! You are here, poisoning yourself, as your siblings risk their lives?!”

It hurt to heart it said like that, as if Klaus was choosing to let his siblings deal with the threats alone. It made anger start to blossom inside Klaus’ being, like a fire being fed gasoline.

“It’s not like I can do much to help!” Klaus argued back, harshly freeing his face from his father’s cold grasp. “They know that, I know that, you should know it too!”

 “Your uselessness in the field is a consequence of your lack of effort, Number Four” His father gritted out and now everything sounded way more like his usual lectures. Klaus huffed and shook his head. It would never change, that speech. His father would keep asking for what he couldn’t give.  “You have great potential locked inside of you that goes unused because of your actions”

In hindsight, talking back to his father was never a good idea. Klaus knew that  _very_  well. At that moment, however, he couldn’t really go back. Not anymore.

“I am cursed, father!” He screamed at the man. Klaus couldn’t tell if the sudden outburst was a consequence of whatever he had just smoked or if everything had just boiled over “And I don’t know if you realize it, but people don’t try to hone curses, they try to get rid of them!”

Klaus had to take back to rebalance himself after Reginald’s hand made contact with his face. His cheek felt hot, pain radiating from it like waves. He stared at the ground, eyes wide and a bit teary.

“You will not utter such foolish words ever again. Am I understood, Number Four?” His father said, coldly. At his lack of answer, the man took a step forward and Klaus could feel his presence even without looking at him. “Am I understood, Number Four? He repeated, slower.

“Yes” Klaus gritted out. He still refused to look up.

“Good” Reginald huffed. The man backed off and Klaus finally raised his head again. He could feel the finger marks like fire on his skin. His father, as always, seemed unphased by the whole thing, if not mildly irritated. He took a pocket watch out of his overall and sighed at it.  “You really ruin my schedule, Number Four” He grumbled.

“Then don’t send me there” Klaus argued, his voice not half as strong as it had been moments before. “You and I both know that it won’t do anything to help me. It just makes me suffer.”

For a second, and only for a second, Reginald’s eyes seemed to show some kind of never before seen emotion, as if the man truly was affected by the boy’s words, It was a brief moment of hope that was soon crushed like every other moment of hope Klaus ever had.

“Go to the car, Number Four” His father told him.

Klaus’ eyes drifted from his father’s figure to the battle still going behind the old man. The number of henchmen was considerably smaller, and Klaus knew that soon it would be over.

“How ‘bout the others?” He asked.

“Pogo will take care of them” Reginald answered.

Klaus hummed and turned his back to fight. He started walking, his father right behind him. His head felt heavy and the slap still hurt.

“Why do you hate me so much, Father?” Klaus asked before he could stop himself.

And just like many things on Klaus’ life, that question remained unanswered. Reginald didn1t even grace him with a reason, nothing Klaus could hold on to. It felt scary, but it also felt infuriating.

“I hate you too, you know” Klaus murmured to the man. “But I don’t think you care”

He was greeted with silence. Surprisingly enough, he was also greeted with that same nothingness when he was thrown inside the mausoleum. It was like when he had the pills, but Klaus hadn’t had any that morning.

“Interesting” Klaus mumbled as he let himself lay down.

His head felt heavier and his cheek still hurt so he pressed his face against the cool rock ground, the cold temperature soothing the throbbing coming from his father’s hand mark. Klaus stared ahead into the darkness, running his fingers through the floor. No ghost had come out, which was good but also a bit unsettling since he didn’t know _why_ they weren’t showing up. 

Klaus frowned. The joint was the most obvious conclusion, but the that thing hadn’t felt like the pills did, at least not entirely. The pills just made Klaus want to sleep, but the joint, although it did make him a bit slow and sleepy, had just brought something like a layer of happiness to the mix. Klaus had wanted to keep on smiling until his mouth hurt when he had been with that Nameless-Boy (Well, at least until his father showed up).

The memory made Klaus smile to himself a bit. That boy had been so nice it hurt to think they would never meet again. Klaus had never had any sort of friendship with anyone that wasn’t one of his siblings (Honestly, with anyone that wasn’t Ben really. Klaus knew the others loved him, but it was more of a ‘I love you because you are my brother and I have to” instead of a “I love you because you are my brother and I like you”.)  (Diego may have once been his friend too, but those days were long gone) so caring a conversation with someone outside the family was a pretty big deal. Fans didn’t like him that much, the questions in interviews were mostly directed towards his siblings and the vast majority of autographs he had ever given were given because the fan wanted the whole package, not because they wanted Klaus’s number on their paper.

Klaus laughed at the thought, his voice echoing. He remembered when Sir Reginald told them about giving autographs, a week before their first real mission, about how they should only write their numbers when people asked for their signatures. Each of them had created a special way of doing it and that had been one of the only good lessons his father had ever given, just the creating their unique ways of giving autographs. Luther’s had been a neat One written in pretty cursive letters. Diego had been a bit more creative, probably a consequence of being an eleven-year-old, and wrote ~~two~~ ( _Like a knife slice,_ he had explained).  Allison had surprised no one when she showed them her neat cursive letter, much prettier than Luther’s, with smooth curves and turns hugging the word and making the number Three more elegant than it should ever be. Five had only written down Five and added a period after it. Ben had made his S look like a tentacle (A very simplistic one, sure, but it was good enough). Vanya traded her S for a treble clef and added some pretty, but not as pretty as Allison’s, cursive letters of her own. Klaus had stared at his FOUR, written in capital letters, for a long time before making a smiley face on his O, regretting it, replacing the eyes for X’s and the smile for a straight line, staring at it and adding a tongue to the mouth. They were cool signatures.

Klaus traced the name on the ground with his fingers. A dead guy in the middle of his name was a great metaphor for how dead inside he felt, he imagined. Eleven-year-old Klaus truly was an artistic genius.

After a few seconds, Klaus sighed and sat up to take off his blazer, folding it to make a makeshift pillow. He rested his head on it and closed his eyes. The effects of the joint and how long they would last was still unknown information to him, so he decided to use the peace he was given. God knew how long his father would keep him locked.

Klaus drifted to sleep surrounded by silence and darkness to be woken up by familiar screams. He covered his head with the blazer, hand firmly pressed against his ears. The spirits were always ten times angrier when took the pills, it was foolish to think it would be any different with the joint. It was impossible to know how much time had passed of how much longer he would have to wait. With a defeated sigh, Klaus sat up.

The only time Klaus longed for his father’s presence was when he found himself locked in that damn place. Maybe the man knew that and it was one of the reasons he liked throwing Klaus there so much.

“Why are you all incapable of shutting the fuck up?!” He screamed at the spirits.

They screamed back, as they always did, and it made Klaus angry, as it always did. There was something different that time, however, because the anger Klaus felt consume his body was much stronger and much more palpable than usual.

That anger was power.

_Literally._

Just like it had happened months before, in the Academy’s training room, Klaus felt something inside him burn. The feeling travelled his body, concentrating in his hands which, now that he had his eyes opened, he could see were glowing in a bright blue.  He curled them up into fists, pressing hard against his ears. Klaus closed his eyes, waiting for his thing to do its magic. Ben had said Klaus had practically disintegrated the ghost he dealt with last time his powers manifested that way, so maybe he could do that again.

It took a second. His hands glowed brighter, the screams got louder, the ghosts became more visible and then-

Then a hand _touched_ his shoulder. An actual, physical hand _touched_ his shoulder.

“Stay away!” Klaus shouted, shrugging the hand off with such panic he fell on his back, his head painfully hitting the ground.

Klaus’ hands glowed even brighter as he concentrated harder. He had done it before, why were the ghosts still there? Why weren’t they going away?

“Back off!” Klaus screamed again, but the dead didn’t listen. They never did.

Another hand latched itself onto him, decaying nails puncturing his skin. Klaus moved, pushing the now solid body away, scrambling to get up. He needed to get to the door, he needed to get out. A hand grabbed his neck as another grabbed his arm and they pulled, the symphony of screams louder than it had ever been.

“No!” Klaus shouted desperately as the cold, _dead_ , hands grabbed him and pulled him and hurt him. “Let me go! No! Stop!”

One hand moved to make its way into his mouth, the awful taste of death poisoning his system immediately. Klaus felt like he was going to vomit.

“Leave me alone!” He screamed as he pushed the screaming bodies away as well as he could. At that rate they would rip him apart. Klaus stared at his glowing blue hands. “Stop! Make it stop! I don’t want this anymore! Please! Please! Father! Father!”

He moved, pushing the decaying bodies out of his way as they screamed his name as loud as they could, as they grabbed him as strongly as they could, as they teared his skin apart with a force Klaus didn’t know they were capable of having. With much effort, he reached the stone door.

“Father!” He pleaded desperately “Father, please! They are going to kill me! Please! Father!” He banged his fists on the door, the ghost already getting ahold of his arms and legs and pulling and pulling and _pulling_ “ Father!” He shouted.

One more pull and his body fell, sharp pain radiating from his chin. Klaus could taste blood, his own and maybe from others, could taste the saltiness of the tears that streamed down his face and could taste the rotten flavor of death.

“Father!” Klaus called again, more desperately then before. He couldn’t breathe, he couldn’t breathe, he couldn’t _brea--_ “Father!”

And then, by some miracle or twisted action of the universe, the door opened.

Reginald Hargreeves stood outside with interested eyes, taking in the mess of angry blue, glowing bodies that surrounded his son. The man seemed amazed at the scene before him and, if in any other circumstance, Klaus would be mentally telling Reginald to go fuck himself for having the nerve of acting like that. In any other circumstance, Klaus would at least try to not look that miserable as he exited the rock prison.

That moment, however, getting out of the mausoleum was top priority, no questions asked. Even if it meant running like a frightened child (which he was, actually) into the not-at-all waiting arms of his not-at-all-loving father. He launched himself at the man, the angry spirits left inside, but still loud and _fucking solid._

“Make it stop” Klaus begged, face pressed against Reginald’s coat “Please, I can1t do it. I can’t do it.”

“Concentrate, Number Four” Reginald told him back, surprisingly calm and, Klaus dared, _gentle._ “Focus on your breathing and try to empty your mind” Klaus let out a sob. “Your emotions are doing it. Control them.”

And as if that day wasn’t fucking crazy already, Reginald’s arms came to envelop Klaus’ frail little body, gentle and warm and _safe_ and Klaus could breath again, he could breathe again.

“Okay” He breathed out as he got calmer “Okay”

It made sense, what Reginald told him, that this new power fed off his emotions. Strong bursts of emotion meant strong bursts of energy, so he just needed to keep himself in check. Yeah, that’s all. Ha. Not like he’s emotional or anything. Ha. He’s screwed.

“Okay” Klaus said again. and Reginald let him go. Klaus let go too, but the boy still stood close, eyes and fists firmly shut.

He took in a deep breath, concentrating. Suddenly, the dead got louder. They were no longer calling out for Klaus, but were, instead, screaming like they were in pain. It was all unbearably loud for a few seconds and then it stopped.

“Are they gone?” Klaus whispered.

“Yes, Number Four” His father answered. “They are gone”

Klaus opened his eyes and looked at his hands. They weren’t glowing blue anymore but were bloody and bruised. Although his heart was still beating at an alarming rate, he could feel the adrenaline rush leaving his body and making space to the pain from the multiple bruises and scratches that littered his body. Klaus sniffed.

“Do you see your potential, boy?” Reginald said. Klaus raised his head to look at the man, who was staring at the now empty mausoleum with an unreadable expression. “Do you understand why I need to push you to be better?”

“I hate it” Klaus told him, and Reginald’s eyes came to rest on him. “They only hurt me”

“And you can control them” Reginald argued “You’ve proved it twice now. With a bit more training and effort from your part, you’ll be able to do it rapidly and efficiently at will”

“I don’t want to be locked again” Klaus pleaded.

Reginald raised his hand and Klaus flinched, ready to be struck across the face again. His father, however, seemed adamant on surprising him with his behavior that day, so the man’s hand came to a calm rest of the boy’s shoulder, Klaus looked up, into his father’s eyes.

“If I see steady progress from you, Number Four, you’ll never have to go through this type of training again”

Klaus sniffed.

“You promise?” He asked.

“Yes” His father answered.

Reginald, Klaus knew, was a cruel man, a sadist that had no restraints on making those around him suffer if it meant he would get what he wanted. He was arrogant and harsh, obsessive and overcritical, impatient and belligerent. He was not, however, dishonest.

Sir Reginald Hargreeves did not lie and, even if it felt like he was betraying himself, Klaus trusted him.

“Okay” Klaus nodded, sniffing again. “Can we go home now?”

His Father nodded and motioned for the boy to follow him to where Pogo was surely waiting with the car. For the fist time since the first day he was thrown into the mausoleum, his Father actually walked alongside him, even stopping when Klaus had to because of the pain.

When they got to the car, Pogo frowned at them, so used to seeing Reginald walking alone. His face got even more surprised when the tall man didn’t immediately get into the car.

“Take Number Four to the medical wing when we arrive, Pogo” Reginald told the stunned monkey. “He’ll need Grace’s attention.”

“Will do, Sir” Pogo answered more of habit than anything.

The ride home was weird, but Klaus found out he didn’t mind that weirdness. It actually felt quite good. Little Number Four smiled as he brought his arms around himself and looked out of the window.

“Quickly, Master Klaus” Pogo told him gently once they arrived. “You don’t want to miss dinner”

Grace bandaged him up quickly and efficiently, smiling the whole time as she always did. When she was done, she guided him to the dining room and left to finish up dinner, leaving Klaus alone at the table with his Father.

“Number Four” The man greeted “Please take a sit”

Klaus obeyed. One by one, his siblings stared to show up, all looking at him strangely, was it because of the bandages or because of his presence at the table? Klaus didn’t know. They didn’t dare to ask, however, all very aware of how the meal should be eaten in silence. When they finished, though, Ben was quick to catch him as they walked up the stairs.

“Are you ok, Klaus?” His brother asked, face scrunched up in worry.

Klaus thought about it. Everything kind of hurt, he felt too tired to properly function and he had absolutely no idea on what training with his Father would be like. Things were still different, however, because this time he had something he had never have before. Hope.

“I think I’ll be” Klaus answered honestly.

After all, there was really nothing else he could do but hope for the best.

**Author's Note:**

> A bit of a spoiler alert: joint boy will be back.  
> Sooo what do you think? Do you think Klaus made the right decision to play Reginald's game? Hope to catch your opinions in the comments <3  
> Alsoo, there will be more parts to this story! It really ain't even close to ending. That said, is there any specific situation you would like to see play out in this new universe? Tell me everything haha  
> GOODBYE


End file.
